"I don't know that I shall be able to sleep," Pippin had complained. "That cry froze my blood!"

Despite the fright of the afternoon, though, both he and Merry were fast asleep, along with an exhausted Frodo. Sam, however, stood amid the dull thickets, chewing on his lip as he pondered the back of their guide. He was glad the others were asleep, for he thought it would be better to say his piece in private. As private as it gets out here, he amended to himself, wondering how he should begin. At length, though, he shook off stillness and moved to join the Ranger. Strider's eyes cut to him an instant, but other than a spare nod, he gave no greeting. Sam sighed.

"Look, Mr. Strider," he said after a moment, "you've got to admit, it's a bit much to ask a fellow to think all's well after you've up and gone into the night after those Black Riders, when Mr. Frodo's hurt and all. Mind, I'm still not sure about you, but you've done right by us so far it seems and if we ever reach Rivendell, I'll be first to say 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry'. But we've a long ways still, I think."

Strider sat silently, but Sam thought he saw the corners of his mouth twitch. At length: "We have, indeed, a long road still, and while we're on it, best to keep your sword to hand."

"Right then," Sam replied, satisfied that they understood each other. As he turned away, though, to go and check Frodo once more, Strider spoke again:

"If fortune is with us, I should be glad to see the end of our road in Rivendell."

After a moment's consideration, Sam replied, softly but earnestly: "Bless me, but so would I!"